


In over your chest

by orphan_account



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 02:43:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2756588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His mother was always aghast when he'd ask, ''What if I died?''<br/>He'd get scolded, though he never understood why and wished she'd just give him a straight answer. After a while, he learned not to ask – but one does get curious in possibly the worst of times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In over your chest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrbarrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrbarrow/gifts).



> written for the amazing mrbarrow on tumblr who came up with the idea ♡♡

Jimmy stands in the ankle-deep snow in the back yard. After a day of looking at the snow from inside the house and being unable to touch it he’s all but gagging to go outside, and once they’re finished with their day he asks Thomas to have a cigarette with him outside, but, like a puppy seeing it for the first time – Jimmy forgets the cigarette and dives into the snow headfirst.  
It’s not long until the snow around his legs in knee-deep as he treads further away, back to the intact, thigh-deep snow that even the courageous hall boys didn’t dare touch. Thomas sits on a discarded crate back where the snow is toe-deep, his cigarette dripping, the ash melting dots in the white. He knows that if given the possibility, Jimmy would aimlessly walk into snow way over his head.

‘’Oi, git!’’ Thomas calls after him and Jimmy turns, the snow fortunately still just up to his knees – though a few snowflakes lay scattered in his hair. ‘’Get back – you’ll get your pants wet.’’

Jimmy grins – blue lips, red cheeks and light eyes – and turns around to face Thomas completely. ‘’But Thomas – Mr Barrow –‘’ he raises his voice so Thomas could hear him.

‘’ _Thomas_ ,’’ Thomas interjects, looking down at his cigarette before taking a drag.

‘’Thomas, look,’’ Jimmy calls and raises his knee above the snow to show Thomas that it’s dry. Whether it’s because of the material of Jimmy’s trousers or the crispness of the snow, Thomas is uncertain. However, he is certain of the fact that one doesn’t have to be wet to be cold.  
Before he can beckon Jimmy over, though, the younger man is already plodding his way back, smiling down at the snow as he tramples through it.

‘’It’s great fun,’’ Jimmy says, slightly out of breath, ‘’This snow.’’

Thomas can’t agree.

‘’We should get snow suits, go explorin’...’’ Jimmy offers jovially.

‘’Maybe next year,’’ Thomas says, a small smile on his lips.

‘’Then I suppose I’m in luck,’’ Jimmy says smugly, nearing under butler. ‘’Next year’s just some ten days away...’’

‘’Clever,’’ Thomas remarks sardonically, though he can’t stop smiling at the sight of Jimmy.  
  
Jimmy returns the smile. ‘’Move over,’’ he says. Besides Thomas on the wooden crate, there sits a folded newspaper. Jimmy picks it up and sits down. He leans against Thomas, declines a cigarette and opens the paper. The way they sit is quite comfortable. Symbiotic – their backs serve to each other as both a source of warmth and support.

‘’Look at that,’’ Jimmy mutters in wonder, pointing at an article in the newspaper as if Thomas could see him. When he speaks, Thomas can feel his words because of the way they sit, their backs pressed together, and by the sounds of the crumpling paper he can guess what Jimmy’s getting at.

‘’What is it?’’ Thomas queries.

‘’Some bloke’s offed himself,’’ Jimmy says, and Thomas regrets sitting as close to him because he can not only hear but feel Jimmy laugh. ‘’By jumping off a bridge.’’

Thomas takes his time answering, his teeth clenched, ‘’...Has he.’’

It’s not an actual question, but Jimmy’s all too eager to reply. ‘’It’s a bit pathetic, isn’t it?’’

Yet again, Thomas can’t agree.

Thomas scoots forward a bit and flicks his unfinished cigarette into the snow. He sits as if he’s bracing himself to leave.

‘’You’ve got to be bloody stupid to kill y’self,’’ Jimmy says dismissively.

‘’Don’t talk like that,’’ Thomas says quietly, and though he’s pleading he hopes that Jimmy’ll hear it as more of an order than a plea.

‘’Well it is daft, innit?’’ he asks, turning around to look at Thomas’ back. ‘’Innit?’’ he repeats, quieter.

Thomas shakes his head. ‘’You know nothing about it,’’ he says coldly and stands up to leave.  
  
Jimmy is left on the crate to stare at Thomas’ departing form and wonder.

 

The entire night, Jimmy is left contemplating the odd outcome of his comment on suicide. It’s quite unfortunate, since this particular night is the longest of the year.  
It’s not obligatory, not pleasant or rational, and yet he can’t stop – can’t stop thinking about his crass comment (he’s even admitted it was quite crass) and the detrimental effect is seemed to have on his friend.  
 _What if Thomas had family who’d..? What if he thought about doing it himself?_  
  
It’s what’s to be considered morning, though it’s still pitch black out, when Jimmy decides to visit Thomas and attempt to apologise.  
A bit of a do-up could never be considered superfluous, Jimmy deems, so he washes his face and fixes his hair with trembling hands. He pushes the door open and peeks through the crack – The corridor is as dark as his bedroom, and fortunately vacant. He tiptoes across the wooden floor and wishes for a moment that he hadn’t left his feet bare.  
No matter how much he tries to make it, it’s not long until he’s made it to Thomas’ door, and when he raises his hand to knock it feels as if he’s leaping off a cliff. The question remains – _will the water he leaps into be warm and inviting, or quite different after all?_  
Realistically, it’s bound to be freezing. No such thing as warmth in these wintry months, not following Jimmy’s icy comments.  
  
It’s either very late, or very early – and Jimmy’s sort of out of sorts. He stands in front of the door to Thomas’ room for way to long before realising that the man is probably still asleep. The last thing he wants to do is enter without an invitation, to recreate a reversed scenario of the time Thomas gave him a nightly visit. Yet before he can stop himself the door is opened and then closed again, with him on the opposite side.  
He, of course, will not wake Thomas with a kiss, and yet... He stops himself in time.

It really is quite late. It’s even later when he finally tears his gaze away from Thomas’ sleeping face.

He leans down and puts a hand on Thomas’ shoulder, shakes it as gently as if he’s stroking it, but Thomas can feel it and it’s not long until he blinks his eyes open.

‘’Thomas,’’ Jimmy whispers, though he can see that Thomas is awake, as if to let him know that it’s just him.

‘’Jimmy?’’ Thomas asks, and scoots up into a sitting position. His heart is hammering against his chest, because no matter what, the sight of Jimmy in his room, in only his undergarments, is as exciting as it’ll prove to be heartbreaking.

Jimmy flinches away, thinking he’s startled Thomas and is just seconds from being reprimanded and shooed away.

Jimmy folds his hands and looks around him. ‘’Let’s have a cigarette, shall we?’’ he offers nervously, looking at Thomas’  desk. ‘’Where’d you keep them?’’

Thomas shakes his head, ‘’Here. The vanity,’’ he says, nodding to his right.  
  
Jimmy nods and leans down, too close to Thomas, as he picks up the pack of cigarettes.

‘’Jimmy,’’ Thomas whispers when Jimmy’s leant down and their faces are just inches apart.

Jimmy stops in his tracks and looks at Thomas, before clearing his throat. ‘’Yes?’’ he whispers back.

‘’What – what are you doing here?’’ Thomas prays that the question displays curiosity rather than animosity.

Jimmy gulps and plops down onto the bed, beside Thomas’ thigh. The pack of cigarettes is in his hand, and he starts picking at the cardboard absent-mindedly.

‘’I’m daft, Thomas-‘’

‘’Jimmy,’’ Thomas can barely stop himself from touching Jimmy’s cheek solemnly.

‘’No, I am,’’ Jimmy mumbles, ‘’I’m daft. Not people who kill themselves.’’ His voice is sleepy and his words are mumbled, his face slightly coloured.

When Thomas doesn’t reply, Jimmy presses his lips together tightly, looking for something to say, and scoots an inch closer.

‘’You’re not daft,’’ Thomas says, and it’s weak and it’s quiet but it’s there, and Thomas considers it to be true.

Jimmy looks up at him and the corners of his lips twist upward in a small smile. The room is getting warmer, and Jimmy lets his smile widen, before he contorts his expression into a grave one in light of the question he’s about to ask.

‘’Did you know someone who’d... You know,’’ he asks, and bites his lip before continuing, ‘’Or someone who’d tried to?’’

Thomas nods, and Jimmy hopes that Thomas won’t say it was him who’d tried to off himself.

‘’Who - uh – who was it?’’ he’s too curious and too tired for even a polite _‘’if I may ask?’’_.

Thomas takes a deep breath and finally meets Jimmy’s gaze, and Jimmy can finally truly see him, his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Once he can see him and his bright eyes, Jimmy doesn’t ever think of trying to stop looking.

‘’It was just after the war,’’ Thomas begins quietly, and Jimmy’s stomach churns because there’s still a possibility Thomas might be talking about himself.  
‘’When I were working at the hospital,’’ he continues, ‘’There was an invalided soldier...’’ Thomas averts his eyes.  
Jimmy leans down and looks up to meet his gaze again. ‘’What happened?’’ he asks quietly.

Thomas gives him a sad smile, ‘’I’ve never told anyone about it. Lady Sybil knew, but...’’

‘’You can tell me,’’ Jimmy reassures him and it’s the start of tears pooling in Thomas’ eyes, though he manages to blink them away.

‘’Right. Well, he was... He were lovely, Jimmy. He had no reason to – I mean, he thought he did – but I can’t understand it... Though I suppose I don’t have to,’’ Thomas rambles, a tear managing to escape his eye and slide down his cheek. He wipes it with the back of his hand and shakes his head, ‘’Sorry,’’ he utters.

‘’It’s fine,’’ Jimmy says, and it’s genuine, and he places his hand on Thomas’.

Thomas nods and manages a smile, though he’s still welling up.  
  
‘’He were injured in the war, lost his eyesight,’’ Thomas elaborates, his voice broken, ‘’Thought his life was over and... Made it over,’’ he says and he really wishes he didn’t sob in front of Jimmy, but his throat appears to have a mind of his own. Then more tears come, and Jimmy has no time to be surprised or inconvenienced. He leans in and wraps his arms around Thomas, and the older man breaks down in his arms, holding him tightly as he buries his head in the crook of Jimmy’s neck.  
For a while it’s just tears and Thomas’ stuttered apologies – and Jimmy won’t hear of it, making sure Thomas knows that it’s alright. He doesn’t really know what to say. ‘’I’m sorry,’’ would show pity, and he feels that showing pity wouldn’t sit well with Thomas. To say that ‘’It’ll be fine,’’ would be a blatant lie – besides, how could he know that it’ll be anything close to fine if he’s not even involved himself?

It’s when Thomas’ breathing finally stills that Jimmy asks his question. He lets Thomas out of his embrace but keeps him close, his hands still draped around Thomas’ trembling form. Thomas is looking down in embarrassment, and Jimmy feels the need to speak. Once again, his curiosity gets the best of him.

‘’What if I died?’’ Jimmy asks, and then gulps – regretting it almost immediately.

But the reaction he gets is nothing like the ones he’s used to – no shocked gasps and feigned anger at him mentioning such a thing.

Thomas snorts. ‘’What sort of a question is that?’’ he asks quietly, another tear sliding down his cheek. Before he can even think of it, Jimmy reaches out and wipes it off with his thumb.

‘’It’s just,’’ Jimmy mutters, a bit embarrassed, ‘’I often wonder it. What if I were, to, you know... How’d people feel? How’d you feel?’’

Thomas shakes his head, ‘’You _know_.’’  
  
Jimmy shakes his head as well, but for a different reason, ‘’I don’t,’’ he whispers.

Thomas looks at him, ‘’Suppose, in a way, I’d die as well.’’

It’s certainly the soppiest thing he’s said so far, but he can disprove its truthfulness.

Jimmy doesn’t say anything, but slides his hands around Thomas once more and hugs him tightly. To kiss Thomas, with his cheeks all wet from the recent tears and when he’s as shaken might be a bit too inappropriate, and yet...


End file.
